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Maxwell Eisenhorn
Background As an infant, Maxwell was left in the care of Grand Inquisitor Ivan V. Eisenhorn by his parents, whom he later learned had broken a deal with a Cambion Warlock and had paid the price with their lives - they had taken him to the Church of Edrimanus in Arkhos to keep him safe. Throughout his life, Maxwell was trained to do one thing and one thing only - to track down all forms of Heresy, Chaos and Unholiness as decreed by Saint Gregor Edrimanus in the second half of The Time Of Sundering. After completing his training in his late teens, Maxwell ventured forth on his quest to uphold the ideals of his patron saint and cleanse all Heresy that could be found. Musings on the Edge Maxwell sits alone on the outskirts of tavern town, perched upon an empty barrel with only the rare indulgence of a mug of ale to keep him company. He catches the hint of some bards tune far off behind him and has to stop his feet from swaying to and fro in time with the music. This place is mad, he thought to himself, staring at the dark and foamy liquid sloshing around in the tankard he held. But there was something that had changed deep down inside him - he'd felt a compassion and a respect to these people in the past few days unrivalled in his being till this point. He pondered and questioned himself - was a zealot all he truly was? Did he really believe in the church or was that just what he was brought up to believe? He remembered the kindness he was shown by the one named Leon and the forgiveness by the one named Janis. Maxwell looked at the stars far above - bright specks, strewn with flashes of light and darting shapes - common this close to the Weft - all painted upon an infinite expanse of night. He was his own man. He would do as he saw fit for himself. Draining his tankard of its remaining contents, Maxwell smiled. He lay back and closed his eyes. His feet began to sway once more. A Grim Encounter The gravelly, coarse ground felt rough on his skin as he clawed, urging himself forwards, slowly up and out of that dark, dank, evil cave. He propped against the rock and laid the sack next to him, the white of the fabric slowly staining to red. "Heh" he mumbled to himself "Well, that sure was a challenge...". Maxwell coughed into his sleeve, sighing deeply when he noticed the flecks of blood after he pulled his mouth away. He dug into his belt and pulled out a potion he'd looted from the Warlocks lair - too exhausted to yank out the cork, he smashed the lid against the stone he lay on and hastily poured the elixir into his mouth. He panted heavily as he felt his body strengthen again, and knew he would live another day. The battle had taken it's toll, but he had expected it - he was deep, deep in the Weft. He had no regret- Maxwell closed his eye, and fell into a deep slumber. Category:Human Category:Adventurers League Category:Arkhos